


Titan

by Heronfem



Series: The Fire and the Fury [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Supergirl (TV 2015), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Big Damn Heroes, Grief/Mourning, Identity Issues, Intrusive Thoughts, Invasion, Kronos-centric, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Brainwashing, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heronfem/pseuds/Heronfem
Summary: Titans never die.And Kronos was only ever caged in Tartarus' heat.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kickingshoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickingshoes/gifts).



> Dedicated, as stated, to kickingshoes, whose post inspired the whole shebang. (post is here: http://kickingshoes.tumblr.com/post/153872283442/you-know-what-i-really-want-to-see-but-will-never )
> 
> TW for this fic: Mick switches into thinking of himself as Kronos due to a great deal of torture and training, and there is a bit of that discussed. Caitlin and Mick also discuss their past relationships. Mick has intrusive thoughts thanks to a supernatural source.
> 
> This kind of got away from me. While not a particularly happy story, it does have a somewhat hopeful ending.

Captured.

Mick hates this. All he is, as he sits watching the Dominators prowl around, is hatred and bile and a festering pile of rage waiting to explode.

He hates that he's been dragged off the ship to handle someone else's problem, and he hates that the Flash can't even look at him, and he hates that it's been raining, and hates that Felicity saw the team being assholes, and he hates that even Supergirl is stuck in some green forcefield and sobbing in pain.

He likes her, in a general not-terrible person way. He watches, rage simmering under his skin. The heat gun is in grubby alien hands, and his fingers twitch to have it back. Jax and Stein are separated, Stein laying still in a little heap in a cage while Sara and Diggle thrash in their bonds. Ray is with the Flash, all of them trapped tight in their paired up cages, Thea and Felicity and Oliver all in one.

Enough, he thinks. Supergirl has started to scream as a slender green rod is gently pressed to her arm. He should leave. Flee. Take the ship, dump Amaya back home and Nate into the ocean somewhere. He could fly, be free, never have to think about the team again. They've been cruel; his skin is thick with scars, but his mind isn't. But he can see Len in every single last one of them, and he can't go through that again.

“Back to the beginning,” he tells the empty air, and lets himself vanish into the darkness.

oOo

The armor hides in a trunk in the belly of the Waverider. He enters and takes it, ignoring Nate and Amaya's questions, and when Gideon closes the hatch he lets the eighth level lockdown override fall from his lips without thought. Better not to have the two idiots fouling him up in the field, and unless they have over a thousand years of work with time machines under their belts, they're not getting out of the lockdown.

He walks into the Star Labs warehouse, sees the one he took once. Caitlin, that's her name, a pretty woman with big eyes and a lot of guts. She watches him closely, skittish. There's something different about her now; Flash says she has powers, and judging by the quick glance of piercing intelligence, she could be dangerous. Something to watch out for.

“I have to go rescue those idiots. Got a place I could change?” He asks, voice mild. 

“Into what?” Her voice is tight, suspicious.

He smiles, polite. “A monster.”

To his surprise, she looks thoughtful, and waves him over. There's a small side room cluttered with old equipment and a really ugly chintz chair, and she pauses as he steps inside.

“You're not the same,” she says.

The ring, hanging from its chain around his neck, suddenly feels cold against his skin.

“No,” he says, quiet. “I'm not.” But he flashes her a quick smile again. “And neither are you. Guess we both know what's inside, now.”

She looks at him harder, hand on the door. “Did you get more burns?”

He laughs, his chest aching. “No. All I got was frostbite.”

“Funny,” Caitlin says, “so did I.”

oOo

The helmet sits on the top of the armor, watching him with baleful, sightless eyes. He can feel the pull to it, Rolan and Declan's training still sticking in places and urging him to pick up the gauntlets again, take his rightful place as master of the hunt. A simple job, the Hunt. A natural pull, a desire to close with and destroy, to deaden that bit that begged for the thrill of the heat and the flames. He reaches in, takes the helmet.

“Hello, you fucker,” he murmurs, and sets it aside.

Boots and greaves first. These are the fiftieth pair he's had. He wore the soles out of the first forty-nine and he's getting close with these. The greaves latch on with a satisfying _click_ , and shivers crawl up his spine as the first tingle of the Hunt flows up. His hands can't move quick enough, muscle memory of a thousand years singing for him to take his place again. Each move is perfectly calculated, each moment as familiar and intimate as firing his gun, each strap tightening down hard.

Cuirass on, he pauses with the gorget.

It's the newest piece, a so-called 'present' from Declan. A collar, for the Time Master's most ferocious dog.

It had been very, very satisfying to turn on the hand that fed him.

He straps it on, and feels the world turn to sludge as all of it catches up. He lifts the helmet in a trance, feeling the weight of each breath. So many times, this exact routine. So many hunts, so many scraps of credits from the Masters, so many nights with hatred boiling up in his dreams, so many re-trainings when he let something slip. And now, even with a collar tight around his neck, still he walks free. Death follows in his wake, the tattered cape always trailing behind to remind him of it.

Time slows, stills, catches its greedy breath and he slides the helmet on, hearing the soft click of the catch. Time digs its claws in, curls around him like a dragon with its favorite treasure.

For a moment, he thinks he hears it breathe, _I've missed you_ in his ear, and closes his eyes to feel the rush as it catches back up, history crackling across his shoulders. The gun lights, a gluttonous thing hungering for a taste of the life he's left behind. He breathes in the iron tang of recycled air, feels that dark part that sleeps stir again.

Titans never die.

And Kronos was only ever caged in Tartarus' heat.

oOo

There are only two Dominators guarding the door. A pity.

He disintegrates them both with no thought, not even breaking a sweat, and walks through the door of the beat-up warehouse. He can hear screams echoing, someone crying. The hunt and the rage well up, hungry for blood. Kronos will indulge them both.

 _There are no strings on me,_ Len's voice whispers in his mind, twining with that of Time. _There are no strings on me, there are no strings on me, there are no strings on me..._

He strides into the central room, glancing up around the room as he does. Dominator after Dominator prowl around, twenty in all. Nine are on the catwalk, eleven on the ground. Cages are set up, each holding captives, and beyond there's the tables for the experiments. _Fucking scientists_ , the shadow of Mick Rory pipes up from the back of his mind. Kronos is inclined to agree. He takes another couple steps forward, noting his gear as he goes. Each step raps hard on the floor, echoing out. 

The Dominators see him.

The Dominators freeze.

Behind his helmet, Kronos smiles.

A smaller Dominator, this one with teeth carved with clan symbols, steps out from the crowd and walks forward. He's especially slender, and has dark, intelligent eyes that remind him of Declan. This is someone who relishes torture. That's fine. Kronos learned the art of taking and receiving pain under the hands of Rolan Oranous, who learned the art of breaking a man from even more people than Vandal Savage. Kronos gathers time around him with a thought, the watch on his arm pulling it in to hold it steady. Kronos has 15 minutes to end this before they catch up to the outside world once again.

“ _The Time Masters have declared us anathema, I take it,_ ” the Dominator says. “ _I am H'rnnktahr, head of First Ship Kav'rnnhr. And you are Kronos._ ”

They have Felicity on a table. She's scared, crying, and Supergirl is coughing up blood in her green cage. Diggle leans against the bars of his, his eyes sightless. Sara is collared now, unconscious and triple bound, Cisco's head is bloody at the temples and his nose and hand are clearly broken, and the Flash himself is muzzled and collared, laying flat on the ground.

Felicity is crying.

And Kara Danvers is coughing up blood.

In another life, Leonard Snart lived. In another life, Leonard Snart would have taken him far, far away, and Mick Rory would have been happy to do nothing more than rob and follow the orders of the person he trusted, loved, and hated more than any other. In another life, he would have seen a little more kindness, a little more affection, a little more belief that he was always only ever human, sick and flawed as the rest.

Felicity Smoak, tiny blonde woman in purple lipstick and a cheerful printed coat, smiled up at him and looked him in the eye and held an umbrella up because she thought that Heatwave wouldn't like getting wet. And Supergirl smiles at him, asks about his name, pays attention, doesn't get scared off, and asked where he got his donuts because they looked great.

Even if he gets no one else out, he's getting Felicity Smoak and Supergirl out alive.

The Dominator is waiting.

Kronos says, his voice made scratchy with the helmet, “You have damaged the timeline.”

The Dominators chatter among themselves, little shivery sounds of fear. The darkness wells up inside him, and he can taste the blood hunger rising. No amount of Rolan's attempts to break him had ever cured him of that. H'rnnktahr shifts, dark eyes blinking twice.

“ _We cannot simply leave-_ ”

Kronos bares his teeth in a grin within the mask. “I am the last of the Titans, and last hunter of the Time Masters. _None_ of you will leave.”

H'rnnktahr's eyes widen, but it's too late. Kronos taps his wrist, and the secondary freeze begins. 

The shots are sharp and methodical, taking the Dominators out one by one. His gun is the same as theirs, green light disintegrating them to nothing, removing them from the timeline with punch enough to reverberate around the world. He moves with smooth deliberation. The Dominators don't understand human fights, don't understand how to anticipate him properly. One tries to lunge at him from the stairs and dies quickly, disappearing before she can hit the ground. Another tries to run forward but is caught in the quicksand time trap, slowing the more she struggles. She dies with a sharp shot to the head. Ten die in the first wave before the short freeze fails, and Kronos turns his attention to the catwalks. Five die in rapid succession, and the next four lunge towards him with their mouths gaping open like gasping fish. He jams the barrel in one mouth and pulls, shoves a dagger into a throat, lets two of them breath their teeth on his pauldrons and then whips the gun backwards to shoot each of them. They fall with brutal screeches, bones crunching as they hit the floor and dissolve. H'rnnktahr is the only one left and tries to run, and Kronos throws four daggers hard enough to pin him to the wall like a bug. The others are watching, silence falling except for Kara's keening noises of pain. Kronos strides forward, stepping up in front of H'rnnktahr.

“ _What are you, Titan?_ ” H'rnnktahr demands, jerking against the knives.

“Me?” Kronos grabs his jaw, the claws hiding in the gloves shooting out to bury into the exposed muscle of the face. “I am the fire and the fury. And I am the last thing you'll ever see.”

He shoves the gun up under the ribcage and fires. H'rnnktahr screams as he disintegrates, mouth opening wide. The green light snuffs him out, the only remaining piece of him the blood on Kronos' gloves. Kronos growls low in satisfaction before turning back to the cages.

Kronos goes to Supergirl first, powering down the green Kryptonite and stowing it in its box. Kara sobs, and he carefully helps her up to lean against an old barrel. Felicity comes next, and she grabs him around the neck for a moment, in something that takes him a moment to recognize as a hug. Oddly, it feels just as satisfying as the kill. They free the others bit by bit, and Kronos sheathes his claws. The heat gun sits nearby, and he scoops it up before holstering it. Satisfying indeed.

He closes his eyes as everyone chatters around him like squirrels while they check each other over, feels the weight of the world. Thinks of the smell of olive trees in Greece so long ago- thinks of a clever former Time Master who baits him with a stone wrapped in a blanket, fleeing with her son. Thinks of Rolan, bleeding from his mouth where he lies sprawled on the bed, torn in two from a so-called intruder while Kronos washes blood from his armor with Druce's help, and Declan puts on the robes of the trainer. Thinks of Len, braced.

“ _There are no strings on me_.”

I never heard him say that, he thinks. I was already out. We were all out. I've never heard him say that.

He opens his eyes just in time for Supergirl to wobble over and hug him.

“Oh, god,” he manages as she squeezes.

“Thank you,” she says, and thumps her forehead against his. He has no idea what to think, and even less of an idea when Cisco gingerly pats his shoulder. He gets thanked all the way back, even Oliver thanks him, and Jax makes him give him a fistbump.

The world is weird.

He slips away when no one's looking. He needs to breathe.

oOo

Caitlin finds him later that night, sitting in the warehouse where he took her.

“Didn't think they'd send you,” Mick Rory says before taking a swig of truly horrible whiskey. Caitlin, in her neat brown shirt and black skirt, carefully sits next to him and stares out into the empty darkness of the rest of the place. He silently offers her the bottle, and to his surprise she takes it.

“I've got ice powers,” she says, matter of fact. “I'd be the best one to stop you. And I was the first one to find you, so they didn't really send me so much as I got lucky while I was looking.”

“Congratu-fucking-lations,” he mutters, rubbing his forehead.

She passes back the bottle and he sighs.

“Felicity got you a cake,” Caitlin says. “It has flames on it.”

Mick glances at her, baffled. “Why'd she get me a _cake_?”

“To say thank you. She thinks you're cool.”

Mick snorts, but can't help his smile. “She was that girl in high school who had all the books and the glasses, and just really wanted to go out with the bad guy.”

Caitlin actually laughs, smiling. “I was that girl too, for a little bit. And then I met my husband, so things were different, but you know. I still sometimes want to cut my hair short and call myself Roxie, or something cool like that.”

“Roxie?” Mick laughs.

“There was a girl called Roxie at school and she was all punk and hip,” Caitlin says, grinning and stealing the bottle back. “I was too much of a dork to pull it off, but I could dream.”

“I didn't know you were married,” Mick says.

Caitlin's smile falls. “I'm a widow, actually. He- he was Professor Stein's first partner. Ronnie. Stein's a rabbi, he's the one who did the ceremony. And then... Ronnie died.”

“That's shitty,” Mick says quietly.

Caitlin shrugs, looking at the bottle in her hands. “He did it to save the world. So I guess I can't blame anyone but the universe. He was a hero in every sense of the word. He died twice to save people, save the city. He was just like that, you know? Willing to sacrifice everything.”

“Yeah,” Mick says. “Yeah, I know.” He takes the bottle back. “My partner died to make sure that everyone was free to make their own choices. Took out a lot of bastards with him. I was going to do it but he knocked me out, made Sara get me out of there so he could do it instead. And that was it. He was gone. Not even a body to bury. Just gone.”

Caitlin watches him pull the ring out from under his shirt, and with a little smile pulls hers out from under her own shirt.

“Shit's fucked up,” Mick says serenely.

“Damn right,” she says, and steals the bottle right back.

oOo

They get back even later, Caitlin calling them a cab rather than letting Mick hotwire and drive a car. They lean on each other as they walk in, and Barry flashes over to them, eyes wide. “Are you okay?”

Caitlin thumps her head into Mick's shoulder and giggles. Mick feels something that might be fondness. “We had reeeally bad whiskey.”

“We're good,” Mick says. “She said there was cake.”

Caitlin perks up. “Cake!”

“Cake,” Mick says, pointedly, and Barry nods, pointing at the computer table. Caitlin cheers, and Cisco stares as they make their way over. Sara laughs, clapping his shoulder as he deposits Caitlin in a chair and immediately gets a fork and a piece of _his_ cake.

Diggle grins as he grabs a fork and stabs the (very pretty, covered in realistic flames) cake. “It's marble cake with strawberry filling.”

“Where's Felicity?” Mick asks through a mouthful. “Gotta propose.”

That gets a good laugh, and Barry fetches the Kronos armor back. Stein packs it for him, tutting over the stitching and smoothing out the pieces so they lie flat while Mick watches the past disappear, burying it back down. Kronos yawns inside him, white fangs flashing, and Mick feels him sink down and curl up in the darkness again. Kronos sleeps, bound in the chains of the flames once again, and all there is now is Mick Rory eating cake. And then it's night, and Thea punches his shoulder as they head out to where they'll sleep for the night.

“How's it feel, being everybody's hero?” Sara asks, grinning up at him as they stroll out to where the Waverider waits.

He shrugs one shoulder, lugging the crate up to carry it with him. “Not too bad.”

“Good.” She catches his arm. “Hey. You're a hero, okay? Even when you're a bad guy.”

He rolls his eyes. “Okay.”

“Good.” She punches his arm too, and they climb hatch into the Waverider. He stows the crate, ignores Amaya and Nate complaining about being locked in, and curls up in his bunk.

He stares up at the darkened ceiling, feeling a little bit of a smile show.

“Hero, huh,” he whispers into the darkness. “Not too bad.”

oOo

He stands in a whirlpool of light and dark, stars growing and disappearing before his eyes.

_A gift_

He turns, sees the amorphous form of something with glowing green eyes. It is everything and nothing, an ending and a beginning, a great and terrible beauty.

_A gift_

The form waves an arm, and Mick looks to see stars coalesce, whirling and spinning together, bright and wildly powerful.

 _A gift_ , the being insists, and reaches down with one wrong shaped hand to cup his face. Mick looks up, feels no fear. All it is, all the being could possibly be, is the ultimate flame. The heat should be roasting him alive. Instead he sits safe, cradled in the fire of stars. The being's green eyes tilt up a little, as if smiling.

_A gift, for my most beloved son_

Where once there were stars, Leonard Snart stands, exactly as he was when he died. His eyes are soft, his smile wry. 

“Len,” he breathes.

“Soon,” Len says, walking through stars to stand beside him. “Soon, I promise.”

Mick tears his eyes away to look up at the being. “You gave me his last words. That was what that was, you wanted me to know he was coming back.”

_A gift, for my most beloved son_

Time pushes him forward, and Snart smiles.

“Soon?” Mick asks.

“Soon,” Len promises, and reaches out to clasp his arm, a familiar embrace. Mick reaches back, hope and pain and all the bitter memories swelling up with the desperate need to simply have his partner back, and his fingers brush the jacket.

He wakes with a start, sweating like he's been in a four alarm fire.

 _Soon_.


End file.
